Like many other Asian guys, I have difficulty growing a beard. Even if I didn’t shave for a few days, I would probably just have a little mustache, and maybe just a little bit of hair along my cheeks. Not anything close to a beard.
But honestly, I don’t mind that at all. I have no desire to grow a beard. I don’t think I’m masculine enough to properly pull off a beard. And doesn’t it get really annoying? I can only imagine…
F. Kinsey loved his beard. It took him years to get it just right, but he thought it gave him a rugged, handsome look. He was the only one. But still, he took his happiness where he could get it.
Maybe it was because he hated his name that he wanted to cover up his face. He despised his first name. Francis. What a wimpy name. Going just by “F” meant that he didn’t have to constantly hear that name being attached to him. And his middle names. His eccentric parents had decided to give him not one, but two middle names. His father, who, in his youth, had a secret Latin lover, wanted to give him a Spanish name, Umberto. His mother, an Anglophile ever since she knew what the word meant, wanted a regal-sounding name, Charles. They couldn’t agree on which one to choose as his middle name, so they gave him both. Francis Umberto Charles Kinsey. He hated that name.
One day, F. Kinsey was at an event at a nearby tech company. Some strange event where people brought their laptops and wrote code on them. He felt at home at these events, surrounded by others who loved sitting in front of computers and staring into terminals with text in them. No pictures. That would be too fun. Some of the other guys had beards similar to his. They all thought their beards were attractive. None of them could ever find anyone else who felt the same way.
Suddenly, an Asian guy with spiky hair ran out of the corner, darting ninja-like toward him while wearing flip-flops, of all things. He had in his hands a squeeze bottle of honey and a can of whipped cream. How odd, F. thought. Why would he have those things with him? Why not a laptop? But he had to get back to his code. There was a compile error. Horrors!
Out of the blue, F. felt a squirt of something sticky on his beard. It was a sensation he was unaccustomed to. Especially while coding. While he was furiously typing with one hand, he reached for his beard and touched the sticky substance with the other. He realized that it wasn’t going to come off easily. He looked at his hand. It looked like honey. Honey? What was that doing on his beard here, at the hacking sanctuary?
F. got up to go to the bathroom, when suddenly, he heard the sound of an aerosol can near him. At the same time, he felt the sensation of foam on his beard. Shaving cream? No, it was whipped cream! Soon, the honey and whipped cream had formed a nasty mess on his beard. But who was behind these shenanigans? F. looked around for the perpetrator. He spied the Asian guy with spiky hair that he saw earlier and had ignored. He knew there was something suspicious about the squeeze bottle of honey and the can of whipped cream he was carrying, but he was so focused on his code that he had forgotten about them. And now he had paid the price. A giant, sticky mess all over his beard. What was he to do?
He tried to make his way toward the bathroom so he could wash the sticky mess off his beard. The bathroom was so far away. People were staring at his beard. He looked like a maniac who had raided a beehive and then tried to start shaving. When he reached the bathroom, there was a sign on the door that said “Out of Order.” There was another sign next to it directing him to some Porta-Potties outside. He followed the arrows until he got outside. Immediately after stepping into the sunlight, a swarm of bees started chasing him. They were attracted by the sticky, sweet mess on his beard.
Desperately seeking refuge from the swarm of bees, F. ran into a convenience store. He was starving from all the coding and running. He picked up a bag of chips and went to the register. He didn’t care that he had honey and whipped cream all over his beard. He needed food, now. After paying for his purchase, he ripped the bag open and started devouring the chips inside. The problem with chips, though, is that they make a lot of crumbs. As he ate, almost half of the chips he ate ended up as crumbs on his beard. This is one of the downsides to having a beard, F. thought to himself. If it didn’t make him feel so ruggedly handsome in his own mind, he would shave it off in a hurry.
The bees seemed to be gone, so he made his way back toward the hacking event. F. passed an alleyway, when suddenly a woman called out to him. She was beckoning him. He could not resist. He followed her into the alley, where she commanded him to unzip his pants. But why? Nobody ever told him to do that. But who was he to say no? He pulled his pants down. The woman smirked a bit. F. was, sadly, not exactly… gifted. At least not below the waist. But no matter, a client is a client, she thought.
As she went down on him, he moaned like a rhinoceros giving birth. In addition to getting the short end of the stick when it came to his manhood, he was also not exactly blessed with endurance, either. After about twenty-five seconds, he started erupting like Mount Vesuvius. It had been so long since he had felt pleasure like that. His semen shot straight up like a geyser. F. felt a hot squirt on his beard. There was semen hanging from his beard now. As if the honey, whipped cream, and chip crumbs just weren’t embarrassing enough. He turned red as a beet and ran out of the alley. “Hey that costs money you know!,” the woman yelled after him, but he was already gone.
F., his beard covered in honey, whipped cream, chips, and now semen, had reached the end of his rope. He felt filthy. He felt ashamed. He really needed to find a bathroom to clean up. Suddenly, a woman started yelling. “He has rabies! This man has rabies!” She was trying to get the attention of everyone within earshot. Everyone stared at him. There was no escape. All he could do was cover his face in shame and cry. Like a little girl.
So you see, a beard just seems like way more trouble than it’s worth.